I decided to take the bull by the horns. “Tell me about Colleen,” I said.
She dropped the spoon she had been holding as if it had burned her. “Wherever did you hear about her? Who has been talking?”
“Nobody. We were exploring the town and I saw her grave in the cemetery. It named her parents and her grandfather. And I saw a portrait of her in a gallery in town.”
“A portrait of her?” She was still looking stunned.
“Sitting in a field of flowers, holding a lamb. I was drawn to it because she was such a pretty child. So I was quite shocked when I saw her grave in the cemetery and saw that she’d died only a month after the portrait was painted.”
“The master gave that picture back to the artist after her death,” she said angrily. “He wouldn’t be pleased to hear that the man was trying to sell it again. He’d already been paid for it once. But the master wanted no trace of her around the house. It was just too painful for him to look at her likeness.”
“What happened to her? Did she die of a childhood illness?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. She was found lying on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. God rest her little soul.”
Involuntarily my hand went to my forehead to make the sign of the cross with her.
“How tragic,” I said.
Mrs. McCreedy nodded. “Such a lovely little thing she was too—a beautiful child with a beautiful nature too. Everyone adored her. When she died the light went out of our lives, especially the master’s.” She lifted the corner of her apron and wiped quickly at her eye. “But let’s not mention her name again. We are all forbidden to speak of her anymore. Now, were you still wanting your tour of the house?”
“I’m sure we don’t want to inconvenience you when you are so busy,” Daniel said, giving me a nudge with his knee under the table.
“We could take a look at the main rooms by ourselves, now that you’ve got them all ready, couldn’t we?” I added. “I’m sure you deserve a rest.”
“No rest for the wicked, isn’t that what they say?” She got to her feet and brushed crumbs from her apron. “I’ll take you around.”
“You should not have insisted upon this,” Daniel hissed in my ear. “The poor woman has enough to do.”
“Daniel, I have to take a look at that tower,” I whispered back.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “You think the ghost will be waiting to greet you, do you?”
“Come along then. Let’s start in the dining room through here,” Mrs. McCreedy called to us, already on her way through the door. We followed her into a room dominated by a long polished table over which hung two impressive candelabras.
“Why, this is long enough to feed the five thousand,” I blurted out, obviously demonstrating to her that I was not used to such rooms.
“The table came from the refectory of a monastery in France,” she said. “The master had it shipped over. And the candelabras were from the chapel of a convent in Spain. I’m not sure that I like the idea myself—looting holy places, even though I’m sure he paid a fair price for them—but it’s not my place to comment. I just dust and polish. But you have to admit that they raise the tone of the place.”
“They certainly do,” I said. “It must be a sight with the candles all burning.”
“Maybe the alderman will invite you to dinner when they are all here and then you can see for yourselves,” she said. She led us through to a morning room overlooking the lawns, a writing room, a music room with grand piano and harp, a library full of old books the alderman had had shipped from a stately home in England, the salon we had seen before, and even a ballroom with great crystal chandeliers dotting the ceiling and French windows along one side, facing the ornamental garden and fountain. Every room was finely furnished, with heavy brocade drapes, impressive paintings on the walls, vases, statues, and every kind of objet d’art in niches and on tables, so that the effect was like walking through a museum.
“Alderman Hannan certainly has a lot of lovely things,” I said.
“He certainly does. They are his pride and joy. He never forgets that he came from nothing, you see. The family was near to starvation all the time he was growing up, so he needs to remind himself that he can afford anything he wants.” She paused, adjusting a drape that wasn’t hanging properly. “But it’s more than that. He needs to be surrounded by beauty. He’s a perfectionist at heart. Everything has to be just so. He insists that the family dress properly when they are here—formal wear for dinner every night, you know.”